


pretty ugly things

by geckosandstarks



Series: the exo gang au no one asked for [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gangs, Mixed Media, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content, Smut, Swearing, The Golden Trio, brother!kyungsoo, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 18:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckosandstarks/pseuds/geckosandstarks
Summary: on a dark, dreary night, oh sehun is the worst possible decision you can make (and you make it happily.)





	1. Chapter 1

Your red tartan shirt bristles behind you as you march, furious, towards the dancing neon lights that adulterate the street ahead of them. Kyungsoo had gone out.  _Again._ Barley a week after promising to become less involved in mafia business and he’d slipped away from your shared apartment the second your back had been turned. Your brother’s lack of sincerity hurt, but what really fuelled your rage was the greater, heart-rendering betrayal you’d stumbled upon not an hour ago. Your boyfriend, well,  _ex-_ boyfriend, with his face buried between another’s woman legs. For weeks you’d suspected him of an affair, but to have it materialized in front of you had been too much to handle. You’d cried angry, shameful tears and stumbled home, in hopes of finding your older brother’s comfort and warmth. Instead, the house was cold and empty, and the nearest trace of your  _beloved_ big brother was a scrawled apology on a ripped piece of paper.

So yeah, you were pissed. And you weren’t about to let Kyungsoo get away with it. You knew how often he frequented this club, though you’d never actually visited it in person before, and that it was a place his gang would often strike deals with neighbouring groups.

You knew very little about Kyungsoo’s group, mostly because he refused to tell you anything or ever let you meet with any of the members. Not that you were exactly pleading for him to let you. He knew how much you hated that part of his life – the gangs, the money, the fights. You had no idea in what the hell he was involved in, but you knew it wasn’t even a little bit legal. He’d come home bloodied and bruised so many times that you were coming to be pretty handy with the makeshift doctor’s kit you kept underneath the kitchen sink. But no matter how many times you would complain about how this life was hurting him, he’d always simply reaffirm the same, undeniable truth – you needed the money. At which point, your yelling would abruptly cease, as you could offer no worthy response – he was right, you really,  _really_  needed the money.

You think however, slamming through the club’s dingy doors, that you’re not  _completely_ clueless about this part of Kyungsoo’s life. He’ll occasionally let slip some crucial piece of information that you’ve built up a fairly solid background. His gang – exo – run your area. They’re a group of 9 men and you think perhaps the leader was.. Suho, was it? Something like that. But you know that while they’re in control of the local area, they are not the absolute power at the front of it. They’re one of many gangs that help control the whole of Seoul for the big boss. That’s what you’ve taken to calling them, since Kyungsoo absolutely refuses to disclose any clues about their identity. You’re not aware of much else, other than that exo has had to regularly defend their territory lately, so Kyungsoo had been coming home more bloodied and bruised than ever. It worried you to no extent, but you knew that he would never leave his gang. Because as much as you were his sister, they were all his brothers, and his level of devotion to them ran deep. But he had  _swore_  he would spend less time out on these jobs, and the clear disregard for your wishes stung  _deep._

The club seems so busy that the walls themselves vibrate. Everywhere you turn, people slam against one another with shuddering fervour, and more than once you are jostled violently to the side. Craning your neck, you hope to catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo’s dark hair in the crowd, but with this many people and the twitching purple lights, it’s impossible to see. Your fists clench as you attempt to  reign in your growing anger and, thinking you see an opening in the middle of the floor, you push towards it.

It takes a considerable time, but eventually you manage to squirm your way to the forefront of the crowd. In the middle of the floor, two boys dance opposite each other, mirroring the other’s moves in a routine like motion. Around them, the partygoers cheer ferociously and stomp their feet to the beat of the mismatched song. You sigh irritably and scan around the room. From this angle, you realize there is a seating area above the floor. It trails around the room with a number of plush purple comforters at different points, tables situated between them. You growl, realizing this is Kyungsoo’s likely location.

Your attention is drawn back to the boys for a moment as the audience’s approval rears up once again in thunderous applause. You cringe slightly, and then realize it is because the floor beneath them has opened up and is now sprouting water, soaking their clothes.

And yes, you’re angry, very much so, but, well you know how to appreciate a nice view, alright? You’re so lost in the fluidity of the dance for a moment, the stark contrast of the boy’s physiques and their opposing blonde and black hair that you fail to realize everyone around you has moved back, and that you are a definite two paces in front of the crowd with water sloshing at your ankles, impatient shouts ringing at your ears.

Cursing at your own mindless ogling, you try to take advantage of the situation and glance up to see if you can better see Kyungsoo. However, as your eyes drift upwards, they connect with the blonde boy in front of you. His movements have paused, realizing your stance, and he seems to be assessing you, almost. His hair, wet and tousled, bats impatiently around his forehead, only lightly obscuring his dark eyes. The water drips untroubled down the long bridge of his nose and puckering over his full lips, before leading a dangerous path towards his lean and open chest. His attire, you note, leads very little to imagine, with his white shirt soaked through and ripped open, and his dark jeans equally distressed, clinging tight to his skin.

You snap out of your undignified gawking and clear your throat awkwardly, realizing he is smirking at you.

You’ve never been very good at holding the gaze of people so attractive they make your eyes hurt, so you look down immediately, blushing darkly. You hurry to stumble back into the safety of the crowd, but just as you begin to move, so does he. Suddenly, he seems to barrel towards you, as in, literally  _right_ towards you so that he is practically running at the crowd. Your eyes widen in considerable shock and you’re hurrying to distance yourself when he  _leaps_ into the air, twisting his limbs in a stance that frankly seems both unnatural and dangerous when-

He lands at your feet, on his knees, with his head hanging in front of you. The crowd roars their approval and, running his hands through his hair, he turns to look up at you, grinning this time. His boldness shocks you, though you can’t deny how attractive the sudden confidence is. You’re on the verge of grinning back when your eyes flick south again and realize the red ink on his shirt. Your eyes darken as you take it in, recognizing the same mark on Kyungsoo’s jacket at home. You know  _exactly_ what type of mark that is.

Of course. A man lands literally on his knees in front of you and he too, is involved in the mafia. What a blessed, blessed day.

Your interest evaporates instantly and you sigh audibly as he stands, especially when you realize his frame dwarfs your own. He blinks down at you, body still very, very close to your own and quirks an eyebrow at your admittedly not very club like attire.

“Enjoy the show?” He asks, eyes crinkled in a half smile as he leans down slightly.

You match his eyebrow quirk with your own and reaching your hand up, flick some of the water from his performance at his face.

“I’ve seen better.”

Over his shoulder you finally catch a glimpse of your traitorous brother, laughing loudly in a booth with a red haired man in front of him. Your earlier feelings of anger are quickly recalled at the sight, and glowering at the image, you shoulder roughly past the still-smirking man in front of you and slosh loudly through the water stage. You catch the grin of his dark haired partner as you do so, but make no effort to return such niceties – you are much, much too angry for that.

You land in front of your brother will a dull thud, water dripping from your jeans. He and the men around him turn to look at you in interest, but this quickly turns into panic as Kyungsoo realizes who it is standing, glowering in front of him.

“Y/n-“

“What the actual  _fuck_ Kyungsoo?”

He stumbles around to exit the booth and the members around him seem shocked at your tone. If you were perhaps calmer, more in control of your rational sense, you would perhaps note that these people around him are the infamous exo gang and have absolutely no clue as to who or what you are, or what you are doing.

“Y/n, calm down-“

“Don’t you dare!” You growl, snatching away from him as he attempts to placate your flailing limbs. In the process, your hand reaches up and strikes against his cheek, and though the men behind him make small sounds of outcry, he only stares at you.  

“You promised me, you  _promised-“_ Your voice continues to raise as your hysteria does, and now not only him, but the men around him reach forward to steady you.

“Little sister, you’re making a scene.” He mutters quietly, latching onto your wrist, a slight red blossoming on his cheek.

“ _Little sister?_ D.O, what’s going on?” From behind him a tall man asks, taking you in quietly. You glare at him in response, and his gaze hardens.

“ _D.O? D.O?_ Is that what they call you here?” You hiss. “Is this who you are,  _D.O?_ ” You question sarcastically and his grip on your wrist tightens.

He leans toward you darkly, ignoring the questioning shouts of the men behind him.

“This is not a place for you, y/n. Go. Home.” He punctuates his last two words harshly, though you see the quick scan he does behind you and realize faintly, that a small crowd has gathered to spectate. Still, unwilling to back down, your matching dark eyes challenge his.

“Go with me.”

You realize that you have laid out a very clear and obvious choice in front of him, and so does he. His eyes widen slightly at what you appear to be asking of him, but you refuse to submit to the hurt that blossoms there. He watches you for a few moments longer before sighing angrily and releasing your wrist so abruptly that it seems to fling across the small space between you. He backs away from you and stands in front of the men in front of him, closer to them than he is to you.

“Who’s the girl, D.O?” Someone asks from behind you and turning slightly, you realize a much larger crowd has gathered than you originally expected. You turn back to your brother, your palms clenched tightly together. He’s turned his back on you, leaning close to the tall man from earlier, who continues to stare at you tensely.

“She’s nothing.” Kyungsoo replies simply and, looking out across the crowd, smiles sardonically, rolling his eyes.

“As if I would associate with the likes of her.”

The crowd titters in cruel excitement behind you and hot, angry tears spring to your eyes. You scoff in disbelief and wonder how the situation escalated from bad, to worse.

He looks back at you once more and there’s a regretful understanding in his eyes, an almost tug in his limbs that make it seem as though he wants to approach you, but confirmed with a certainty that he won’t.

Overwhelmed with hurt, you turn on him and weave through the crowd who, having just witnessed your utter humiliation seem willing to leave room for your escape. This, small mercy you suppose you can appreciate.

Bursting out the doors of the club, you let out a sudden, feral scream. The hinges of the doors trickle shut behind you, but you ignore it, squatting to your knees and taking your head in your palms, willing the tears to stop.

You can’t  _believe_ Kyungsoo would willingly treat you this way. For a long time you’d regarded your brother as the one person in the world you felt you could rely wholly upon, who you were sure would never break or abuse your trust the way he had only moments ago. Your anger, while still present, is overwhelmed by the hurt of your brother’s disloyalty and your own humiliation at his hands.

Your inner monologue is interrupted as the doors once again swing open behind you. Initially, you take no interest in the likely drunk trespasser, expecting them to perhaps vomit in the muddy patch across from you before then stumbling back inside. Instead, slow, careful steps click against the pavement next to you and, spreading your fingers slightly, you realize a group of 3 men or so have come to gather around you.

You stop crying, and raise your head slightly. One directly ahead of you, one at each side. Your breath comes in quick, sudden gasps but you figure this is probably a good thing. They will not expect much of a girl who looks afraid.

(Though, you figure it’s probably important to note that you are very, very afraid anyway.)

A man with a dark suit, dark hair and darker eyes grins sardonically down at you. A cigarette dangles precariously from his lips and after a moment, he draws in a breath that seems almost laborious and crushes it under the heel of his shoe. He makes the sudden twist of his foot seem intimidating, and though he seems keen to maintain a supposed easy going stance, every inch of him stands firm and calculating.

After a moment’s pause, he squats down in front of you and pulls your hands away from your face, keeping them still in his palms. His hands are cold.

“And who might you be?” His words are smooth and clear, ringing out across the suddenly empty street.

Fighting hard to maintain a facade that doesn’t show how intimidated you have become, you raise your head higher, looking him dead in the eye.

“No one to you.” Your response is casual, cool, the opposite of what you feel in the moment.

He hums, the pressure on your wrists increasing slightly.

“No one to D.O either, apparently.”

You lose your composure for  _half_ a second, anger slipping through your eyes and he clicks his tongue, smiling.

“Ah, so sorry. Too soon?” His head tilts to side, mocking arrogance dripping from his every feature – the twist of his lips, the slight crinkle of his crescent eyes. Your fear is evident, but quickly overwhelmed by the irritation this man’s presence inspires.

“Is there a point to you speaking, or is it just that no one else wants to listen?”

The men to the side of you let out little chuckles, and he himself seems delighted by your notable indignation.

“Awfully brave thing to say of a girl who’s hands won’t stop shaking.” He holds up your trembling fingers as though to prove his point, loosely combining them with his for a second.

“It’s because I don’t find you attractive. I tend to get uncomfortable when ugly men insist of touching me.”

The men next to you really are laughing now, and though the man in front of you smiles still, he squeezes his fingers into your own harshly, so much so that you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from yelping in pain.

“But you didn’t mind when Kyungsoo touched you, did you? I bet you were loving it, his hands on you.” You attempt to back up slightly, disgusted by what he appears to be suggesting, but he doesn’t let you, snatching your body closer to his.

“That’s what you are isn’t it? I saw you on the floor too, standing closer so that little brat would come grind on you or some shit. I gotta say, you’re not very subtle about what you do, or what you are. But hey,” He pauses, reaching his hand to roughly tug your chin up to meet his, before letting his eyes travel slowly, leeching over your every curve and dip. He flicks his eyes up once more, settling on the disgust that screams in yours.

“I’m certainly not complaining. I respect a girl who knows exactly what she is – a dirty, little  _who-“_

He doesn’t get to finish his monologue because, having heard enough of just exactly what he perceives you to be, you lurch forward bite harshly into the soft skin of his cheek. He yells in pain but you grind your teeth until you feel the blood spurt up in between them. He slams his palms against your face and the two men at your side rear you up and away from him. Breathing heavily, you spit out the blood in your mouth onto the street.

“Bitch.” He hisses, pressing his fingers to the blood trailing down the side of his face.

You hum in agreement and lean forward in your captors grip slightly. “And one that would  _never_ fuck you.”

His smiles and laughs are gone now. He takes two steps toward you before pushing open his jacket slightly to reveal a glint of metal against his hip.

“Maybe I ought to teach you a little les-“

The doors behind you slam open as Kyungsoo launches himself at one of the men holding up your arms. Beside you, the tall man from earlier does the same. And then, all at once the men you had seen sitting in the club seem to trickle out on the street beside you _,_ taking up equally defensive positions.

Your arms now free, Kyungsoo takes a moment to look up from his attacker and shift his head frantically down the side of the street.

“Y/n,  _go!_ ”

You nod back quickly, but, turning back to the bleeding man in front of you as he faces off with the red haired man you’d seen your brother laughing with earlier, you can’t resist pulling the pepper spray Kyungsoo had insisted you carry from your pocket, and unloading the contents of it on his face. He shouts in pain as it sprays into his eyes and, satisfied, you drop the empty can and sprint off down the street.

“Dick!” And really, as you shout it, you’re unsure who it is you’re shouting it at.

As it turns out, you are even less athletic than you previously thought, and that was already pretty bad. So you’re not running for long when you slip into a small, decrepit alleyway and lean down in an attempt to catch your breath.

Your hand is spread over your stomach and your hair bats impatiently around your eyes when you jump at the intrusion of a rich voice ahead of you.

“Is this how you usually spend your Friday nights?”

You turn your head slightly and notice him, still damp from his performance as he leans against a wall and takes you in.

“Well, this is more of a Saturday night thing but, well I’ve had a rough week.”

The corners of his lips tug in a half moon smile and he takes a few more, easy steps toward you. You lift up your palm suddenly in an attempt to maintain a barricade.

“Listen, I’ve really had my fill of all and any of the male species tonight, so if you’re planning on intimidating me, d’you think we could, you know, move it to tomorrow night or something?” You huff and he’s really smiling now, eyes crinkling.

“But don’t you already have Saturday plans?” He asks, his head tilting to the side.

Despite yourself, despite the overall shitty nature of today and despite that little red inking on his shirt, you feel the laughter bubble in your chest.

It expands until you’re heaving through the chuckles, ignoring the tears that stream down your cheeks. You sigh, leaning back on your heels and sliding against the wall until you’re sitting, legs propped out in front of you. You hear him as he walks towards you and, as he comes closer, you loll your head to the side to look up at him. He blinks down at you, smiling gently, before he sighs loudly and slumps down next to you.

He nudges his knee against yours slightly and though you know you should probably attempt to create some space between you, remind yourself that not only is he a stranger, he is the  _worst kind_ of stranger, you can’t seem to muster the energy to pull away.

“What happened?” You sigh, drawing up your knees to rest your head on them.

“What didn’t?”

You lapse into a comfortable silence for a moment before he mimics your position, resting his head so that you both blink at one another, each taking the other in.

“I have a serious question.”

You steel yourself, nodding.

“Why’d you flick water in my face?”

You snort.

“Maybe I was displeased with your performance.”

“No, that’s not it.” His eyes twinkle with a childish mischief. “I saw you looking.”

You scoff, raising your head. “Looking at what?”

He raises his eyebrows, again repeating your motions. He gestures down to himself, over his still open shirt and dark jeans. “All. Of. This.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin does not falter.

“I was looking at the other one.”

“Kai?”

“Yeah, that.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

You pause, feigning shock.

“You don’t know. I could be a terrible truth teller.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“100% a thing.”

“Doesn’t sound like a thing.”

“It’s a thing!”

His grin widens and he tilts his head further, regarding your now ruffled exterior. After a moment’s pause, he sticks out his hand towards you.

“Sehun.”

You hesitate, eyes flickering between his hand and loopy red handwriting barely visible in the light of the dumpster. After an awkward pause, you figure your night can’t really get much worse than it already has and well, he did make you laugh. You slip your hand into his gently, noticing that it is surprisingly warm and immediately worrying that your palms are sweaty.

“Y/n.” You respond, sighing.

Dropping your hand, he leans his head back against the wall again, closing his eyes briefly. You study him as he does so, your eyes canvassing along the general slump of his arms as they rest against his knees, the slack in his strong jaw.

“You look tired.” You observe meekly, and his eyes flicker open, familiar smile finding his lips once more.

“I am  _exhausted._ ” He grunts slightly, twisting his body to face you.

“You uh, I mean, you don’t have to stay here with me, if you’re tired.” You stumble over your words, suddenly embarrassed. “Actually, why are you here?” You enquire, gesturing around the dimly lit alleyway.

He shrugs, and his eyes cloud over for a second.

“My friends got in a fight.” He mutters. You regard him quietly, with not a small ounce of curiosity.

“You’re not gonna fight with them?” You enquire, and if on cue, his phone buzzes loudly in his pocket. He barley glances over at it before, reaching into his jacket, he flings it across the space and it lands with a dull smack against the wall, crumbling on the cracked pavement. You do not flinch.

Turning to look at you, his gaze seems much more intense, much more sudden than his previous teasing looks. You think that you should probably look away, that this interaction has become much more serious than either of you intended for it to be but, always curious, you do not.

“I’m tired of fighting with them.” He mumbles, almost meekly, as though he is ashamed of what he is saying.

“Do they know that?” You approach carefully and when his gaze finds yours, it is light again, infused with teasing.

“They would, but unfortunately I’m a terrible truth teller.”

You snigger slightly and he responds as such, blinking at you still.

You exhale loudly, eyes wondering over the starless night above you.

“My brother hurt my feelings.”

You grunt the words out forcefully, tasting them like bile in the back of your throat. He responds gently, carefully as you had done only moments ago.

“What happened?” He tries again, and you blink the tears out of your eyes, your breath catching slightly.

“I just-“ You break away, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. “It’s just been a shitty night.”

You feel his eyes on you as you struggle to regain your composure, and furiously blink away the tears that so desperately want to fall.  You hear the slight shift as movement as slowly, he leans closer to you. When you don’t pull away, he continues to shift, until his head rests carefully on your shoulder.

The gesture is a little strange and made awkward by how much taller he is than you. He has to shift quite far down the wall for his head to reach your shoulder, so he is practically lying beside you. He doesn’t seem to quite know how the rest of his body should face, because his long limbs hang nervously by his sides, as though you will jump away at any moment.

Despite this, and all the circumstances around the uneasy embrace, you appreciate it, and the hesitant warmth that scatters from his body to yours. You smile gently and rest your head against his, wanting somewhat to place your hand over his, but worrying that this will perhaps be too much. So instead, you inch your pinkie finger towards his, until they brush gently against the other. For a while, you both sit like this, leeching onto the other in the bristling of the slight spring chill and each enjoying the comfort of one another’s company.

“Thank you.” You murmur, and though he doesn’t respond, he turns your hand over slightly so that he is tracing small, nonsensical patterns on your palm, humming quietly as he does so.

You spend a while there with each other, until eventually the dark night gets darker, and the chill around you becomes too insistently bitter to ignore. You raise your head slightly and his movements on your hand cease. He raises his head to look up at you earnestly and in that moment, in that one, gullible moment, you make a decision.

“You wanna go get a drink?” You blurt out suddenly and he lifts his head from your shoulder, surprised.

“A… drink?” He draws out and you nod, perhaps a little too furiously, in an attempt to dispel some of your nervousness.  It doesn’t work and a slow, easy grin slips onto his lips.

“I mean – I’m just- not that you have to or anything like that – I just thought maybe you would uh- right, yeah, so I’m just gonna leave now.“ You stand up, your cheeks flaming as you stumble over your words. A drink? Really? Why not just scream that you want to do him right here in this alleyway? You groan internally, and his playful laughter bubbles up beneath you.

You go to walk away and quickly you realize he is lumbering beside you.

“So, where we going?” He asks. You turn to him, surprised, and slow your scurrying pace to a standstill in front of him.

“Uh- what?”

“You know, to drink?” He teases, mimicking drinking from a glass. You scoff slightly, surprised, and pleasantly so.

“Uh well-“

“Have you ever noticed people seem to make really rash, dumb choices when they’re drunk?” He interrupts, eyes skimming briefly over yours.

With a surge of confidence, you gnaw on your lip slightly, and follow his dark eyes with your own brazenly.  

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Things progress very quickly after that. As it is, it turns out you and Sehun do not require many drinks at all to make thoughtless, impulsive choices, and you’re barely tipsy as you stumble through the door of his apartment, his lips connected to yours.

It’s a decision you know you’ll regret in the morning, a very, very silly decision that neither of you should be making. Still, as his long fingers press gently against your ribcage, his leg pushing between the two of yours, it’s not one you can seem to pull yourself away from.

His movements are tender as he touches you, careful in a way that drives you to the brink of insanity as you just want  _more_ and  _more_ of him. He presses you against a wall, arms caging either side of you as his mouth works languidly against yours, peppering your lips with gentle kisses until your mouth slips open against his and his tongue slips against yours. You groan slightly, and you reach out your hands to brush over his cheeks, before smoothing down the sharp angles of his body until you reach his waist, at which you pull him flush against you.

He chuckles slightly, as the movement nudges his mouth away from yours so that he instead breaths hotly on your neck. You both take a moment to breathe, before he reaches down and tugs meekly on your thighs. You twine your calves easily around his waist as his lean fingers spread across your legs, moving his right hand up to your neck to brush away loose strands of hair and the collar of your shirt, sucking lightly on the skin there. You bite back a moan and your back curls against the wall, pushing your breasts against him.  He lets out a ragged breath and pulls away from you suddenly.

“We can still… stop if you want.” He hums slightly, hands suddenly hesitant against your thighs. You frame his face with your hands and press your lips firmly against his, much harsher than he had done. He grunts slightly in surprise and fists his hand in your hair as he returns the kiss with just as much fervour. You take the chance to stretch your arms out slightly behind you, peeling away your tartan shirt and letting it drop to the floor, leaving you in a loose tank top. You pull away, and skirt a thumb over his swelled bottom lip, before pressing insistent kisses against his jaw.

“I don’t… wanna stop.” You mumble and you think you hear him curse slightly under his breath. He tilts your chin up and reclaims your mouth, pressing against the sliver of skin exposed where your tank top has ridden up.

He readjusts his grip and pushes away from the wall. Surprised at the action, you press your head into the space between his shoulder and neck and, as he walks, push at the jacket on his shoulders. It slips from him easily and you lean back up to kiss him again, your hands resting at the nape of his neck.

You’re unaware you’ve reached a bedroom until he settles beneath you, bringing you down so that you’re sitting on top of him. You shift slightly so that your legs are on either side of him, and press against his crotch. He pulls away from you, moaning out your name quietly and you smirk, pleased at your apparently significant effect on him. You tilt your head down to nip at his neck before reaching down to pull on the ruffled white shirt he wears, pushing it over his head. It lands with a wet thump against the floor and as you turn to laugh slightly, Sehun takes the opportunity to flip you over, so that he hovers, shirtless above you. You press your hands against his back and his own palm flattens against your stomach. Instead of removing your flimsy top, his fingers crawl beneath it, reaching up over your stomach and fluttering over your ribcage before falling on top of your bra.

You grunt and flop beneath him, throwing your fist against the bed sheet.

“Don’t  _tease._ ” You huff and he chuckles at your frustration, before helping you remove the top. He pushes you further against the bed and crawls over you, until your head rests carefully on the navy blue pillow and he marvels down at you, smiling gently.

“Are you sure?” He whispers against your collarbone and you almost  _whine_ at him to  _hurry up already._  He seems to sense your exasperation though, because he makes quick work of removing his own jeans before then pulling off yours, kissing along your legs as he does so. When he pulls down your underwear, his fingers press into you slowly, and he appears about to add his mouth too when you shake your head, pulling his face up to yours.

“Later.” You gasp and he nods, settling over you once more, fingers curling inside you. Again you slam your fist against the bed sheets and let out a loud groan, roughly pulling his head down against your own. He removes his fingers and you shudder at the loss of contact, but then his hands are slipping underneath you to unclasp your bra (and really, you have to take a moment to appreciate how quickly he does remove it, because you’ve been wearing one for years and it still takes you some time in the morning). Immediately his hand is on your chest, rubbing slowly against your breast. You throw your head back against the pillows but it smacks against the headboard instead, and you groan at the sharp gasp of pain.

Sehun stills, gasping before moving his hand to cradle the back of your head gently, lust quickly overcome with concern.

“Ah, y/n, are you alright?” He whispers and you wince slightly, but nod. You stare at him for a moment, his knuckles running softly against the back of your head. The concern in his face surprises you, but makes you feel good in a way you cannot explain. You skim your hand over his jaw and his gaze is drawn back to yours, wherein he blinks down at you with a firm sense of tenderness. You smile, and lean up to press a chaste kiss against his lips, hand still smoothing down his jaw. When you pull away, his eyes are soft, face settled in a small grin as he runs his hand through your hair.

“Do it now.” You whisper, wracked by a sudden eagerness to have him thrusting into you. He nods slightly, and leans down to kiss you again, before reaching into a draw and rolling a condom onto himself. You place your head back on the pillows as he braces above you. After a moment, he pushes into you, and you emit a high pitched gasp, your walls settling around him. He waits a moment too long to move, and you have to kick his shin slightly to signal that you’re ready. He huffs out a laugh and slowly begins to press into you, hands fisted in the sheets next to your head as he builds up a steady rhythm. Of all the boys you’d ever had sex with (which, admittedly, was really not that many) you’d always been pretty quiet in bed– sure, it’d felt good when they’d moved inside you, but it hadn’t exactly been earth shattering. But _Sehun._ The way he thrusts into you is, frankly, ridiculous. With every smooth roll of his hips he seems to find a different sweet spot and when you’re a moaning mess beneath him, he adds two fingers. You yelp, body twisting unnaturally beneath him, but he just keeps going, a thin layer of sweat forming on his chest. You lean up, trying to match his rhythm and he kisses you roughly, lips slanting over yours, your moans meeting in a mismatched choir.

It’s not long before the familiar pleasure begins to build, and by his sudden alternating change in pace you sense he’s close too. His hand gropes your chest and he leans down, taking your nipple in his mouth and just like that, you’re a goner. You’re on the verge of a scream as you come around him and he all about collapses on top of you, thrusting out his own orgasm. Your hands link as you both ride out your highs, Sehun sucking on your chest.

Spent, he pulls out of you slowly and tosses the condom into a bin beside him, his body flopping down next to yours. You throw your arm over your eyes, trying to calm your ragged breath as he does the same.

Silence settles around the two of you, panting, sweaty and naked in his dark sheets. Embarrassed, you wonder if, now that you’re finished, he expects you to leave. You shift away from him slightly, moving to the edge of the bed when he rolls over to his side and gets out the bed. You rush to do the same, shuffling awkwardly on the wooden floors.

You watch his figure retreat to a small wooden closet in the corner of the room and bite your lip, shifting your hands to cover your exposed breasts.

“Uh, should I-“ You begin, but are halted as, after having pulled on a set of loose tracksuit bottoms, he begins toward you, a shirt in his grasp. You raise your eyebrows questioningly, but he just gestures for you to hold your arms to the side. You do so, a little reluctantly, and he pulls the shirt onto your shoulders, humming.

He kneels to do up the buttons and as he finishes, pulls you toward him to place a soft kiss on your clothed stomach. Unsure of how to react, your hands simply hover above his tousled blonde hair.

He stands once more and intertwines his hand with yours, pulling you back toward the still–warm bed. He pushes you onto the sheets gently before then following suit. You turn on your side and he carefully places his hand on your waist, shifting a little closer.

“Is this… is this okay?” He mumbles and turning your head to face him, you nod slightly. Reassured, he smiles and moves closer, arms pressing more firmly around you.

“Don’t go.” He says and you face him once more, tilting your head in confusion. “In the morning, don’t go.” He elaborates and you smile softly. Instead of answering, you lean forward to press a tender kiss on his lips, and then his cheek. His eyes closed, he lets out a small contented sigh and you turn back around, closing your eyes.

He presses a soft kiss onto your head and, choosing not to think of what will happen in the morning, you clear your mind, and drift into a tranquil sleep.

****


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the inevitable morning after

~~~~

The next day announces itself in a slow, drizzly manner. Raindrops beat against the windowpane like thumbtacks, lazily fermenting in the early morning dew. 

You remain undeterred in your quest to sleep through the harsh, brittle truth of morning until a clap of thunder shrieks above you, and you gasp awake. 

Before you so much as open your eyes you are panicking. The events of last night do not return slowly, or give you any brief pause in recalling your terrible, terrible decisions, but as sudden as the steady beat of rain outside the bedroom window. 

As though there were a lion in bed next to you, you shift with the slightest of movements. Slow, careful and measured you turn your head to see him.

 There.

 In the flesh.

 He seems pale in the dim light, and his hair a haphazard state upon his head. The dark eye makeup he had been wearing seems to have smudged into the cotton of his pillow and stutter down his cheek. His lips pucker slightly, unconsciously, as he shifts closer to you. 

 You turn backwards again, your mouth agape. 

Oh god. 

Oh no. 

This was bad. This was _worse_ than bad. Of all the shitty, mindless, impulsive decisions you had made, this was by _far_ the worst. 

For years you’d belittled the lifestyle, complained about it tearing your brother away from you, and now, waking up next to a follower of the very fate you so preached to hate, you made yourself a hypocrite of your own words. 

Oh god. Your brother. 

_ Kyungsoo.  _

Would he be worried? Would he be looking for you? Would... would he even notice you hadn’t come home? You feel the dread creeping up on you through shivers along your spine and realize that now is probably not the best time to rage a war against yourself. 

You can do that later.

For now, you think, slowly peeling away your body from the man next to you (you cannot say his name. You will not.), you should focus on getting out of this apartment. You manage to mostly detach yourself until he suddenly twists and groans. You still completely, but to your utter relief, he shifts to the side opposite you, curling in on himself slightly. 

You sigh shakily as your feet pad softly against the ground. 

The floor is cold. It squeaks beneath your toes as you stand and you wince, but there is no shuffle of movement, nor groan of protest, so you figure you’re fine. You stretch across the moaning floorboard and ease into your dark jeans, huffing quietly when you realize your shirt is nowhere to be found. 

You _love_ that shirt. Admittedly, it had probably seen better days. There’s a small tear in the side where Kyungsoo had worn it out once (unknowingly, he proclaimed, though the glint in his dark eyes had been a dead giveaway) and a dark, mysterious stain on the pocket that, frankly, scares you slightly. Nonetheless it is absolutely your _favourite_ shirt and to leave it behind would-

A voice saps sleepily behind you, questioning and quiet. 

“Fuck!” You curse loudly and leap for the door. The undignified groans persist in a louder chorus now, but this only fuels your speed. You snatch your phone, disregarded on a blue table from the night before, and fling open the front door, which, in your lust filled rendezvous from the night previous, neither of you had bothered to close properly. 

It swings haughtily shut on its hinges, your red tartan shirt winking from the corner of the room behind you. 

.     .     .     .     .     .

Your apartment door shuts behind you with a dull thud, accompanied by the wet squelch of your shoes as you peel them from your sodden feet. You sigh inwardly. What a _wonderful_ morning this had turned out to be. 

Walking further into the room, you pull your phone from your pocket and scrub the droplets of water from the screen in quiet frustration. As you scan the screen, your face drops. 

**_ big brother _ **

**_ (54) Missed Calls _ **

**_ unknown _ **

**_ (39) Missed Calls _ **

Aside from the calls, there are rows upon rows of messages from Kyungsoo demanding your location, each one more desperate than the last.  Your heart pangs and you are rushed with a sudden sense of guilt. Swiping open your phone quickly, you type out a message to your brother. 

**_ i’m home. don’t freak out. sorry.  _ **

Before you can agonize over the logistics of the message or infuse a rage that in all of _his_ messages there hadn’t been a single apology, you hit send and toss your phone onto your shared plush purple comforter, groaning aloud into the big, empty room. 

Rubbing your eyes with a world-sort-of-weariness, you tread heavily towards the bathroom. Your hair drips behind you and as you pad towards the mirror, and you are forced to acknowledge your utterly _wrecked_ appearance. Not so much because your hair wisps around your face in impatient, tangled ruffs, nor because your skin drips with the faint remnants of last night’s makeup, or even because the too-large shirt you wear clings unflatteringly to your frame and reminds you of the previous night’s misadventures.

Simply put, you look sad. Tired. Weary of the world, sorta way. Kyungsoo’s words prick against your ears and you blink away the tears. Instead, you smile. Big and open and as delicate as ever, you smile and tell yourself that it will all be okay.

You step under the shower, and almost believe yourself.

(It doesn’t matter if you cry in here, you think, the water will wash it away and you can deceive yourself a little longer.)

You jump as the front door slams shut, tearing you away from your oh-god-is-she-really-crying-in-the-shower moment. You hear Kyungsoo bellow your name and you sigh, flicking off the shower head. Before you can yell out a reply the bathroom door swings open and growling, you rip the shower curtain open slightly to remind your brother that while you love him oh so much there are certain _boundaries-_

You blink. 

It is not your brother’s eyes that blink back at you. 

His hands are clenched around your dingy white sink, his oversized red shirt and dark skinny jeans highlighting his tan skin. He doesn’t seem to have made much of an effort to remove last night’s makeup and as your eyes wander down to the stutter of smudged eyeliner, you are reminded of this morning’s intimate position and flush darkly, your eyes skittering away nervously. 

 You can barely manage to meet his gaze, but you feel the pulse of it on you like a heavy reminder. You glance at him briefly, and it is enough to note his open mouthed stupor, dark eyebrows raised high. You think he’d probably look pretty funny, were you not naked and dripping. 

(Double entendre? What? Never.)  

“Oh god.” You groan, pulling up the shower curtain to cover your face. Sehun opens his mouth, but before he can utter a word, Kyungsoo bursts into the room, eyes roaming the room frantically until they find your shivering form.

“Y/n!” He breathes, voice trembling with relief. Unsure of how to respond, your lips slip into a small, hesitant smile as you debate your reply – you figure ‘sup’ is probably an inappropriate sentiment, given the situation. 

He steps forward into the room, hands flapping frantically at his sides. 

“Where have you _been?_ Do you have any idea how worried I was? That area isn’t safe! _Why_ do you even have a phone if you’re not going to answer it?! All _night_ I’ve been-“

“Alright, alright.” You step in quickly, holding up your right palm. “Yes, I was very irresponsible, and yes, I shouldn’t have done it, but is this really the best time to be having this conversation?” You question, gesturing mildly down to your naked form still covered by the shower curtain and then tipping your head ever so slightly in Sehun’s direction, who remains openly gaping at the exchange. 

Kyungsoo pales suddenly, his undeviating gaze drooping as he shuffles sheepishly on his feet. 

“Ah, Sehun, I’m sorry , I... I didn’t see you there... well actually, why are you...” 

Kyungsoo’s voice drifts away slowly, leaving the only noise in the room to be the tense drag of his feet against the tiled floor. You’re confused until, glancing up, you notice his weighty stare near Sehun’s scuffled shoes. Curious, you tip your head slightly and emit a strange, low pitched noise, resembling a sort of gargle, as your gaze finally lands on the object in question. Sehun’s shirt, screwed up from the night before and tossed idly aside, is clearly visible. 

For a moment, the room is silent. You feel the rigidness of your brother beside you, cringe against Sehun’s jittery shock as it bounces around the room. Gripping the shower curtain with sudden trepidation, you frantically search for an excuse that would justify Sehun’s clothes mingled with your own, but find none other than the stark, ugly truth. 

Behind you, a flurry of water droplets disturbs the mum room as they land in panicky succession against the bath tub. The small sound acts a trigger, and the room quite suddenly bursts into belligerent life. 

“Y/n! What is this? Is that Sehun’s shirt? Don’t tell me that is Sehun’s shirt. SEHUN, Y/N? Do you have any idea what-“ 

You frown as his voice begins to raise, Kyungsoo stepping toward you. 

“Hey!” You yell back, your tone just as confrontational as his. “Stop yelling at me. I need to get changed, so, can the both of you, y’know..” You make a slight shooing gesture, and turning away immediately Sehun practically sprints away from the two of you. Kyungsoo is more hesistant, debating on his feet and opening his mouth slightly. 

“Ah!” You cut off, frowning. You raise a stern finger towards the door. “Out. _Now._ ” 

Kyungsoo seems surprised at the sudden authority in your voice (he was your _older_ brother, after all) but leaves all the same, grumbling as he tugs the door shut behind him. 

You peel out of the shower curtain and land on the cold floor with a regretful, sodden thump. You sigh, taking your time dragging the towel along your body, painfully aware of the disaster of a situation that awaits you behind the splintered door. 

Soon enough, a chorus of yelling rises from the other side of the door. Your brow furrows slightly, picking up on a number of foreign voices. The yelling is not angry, exactly... just a sort of, general shouting – excited, even. 

Your curiosity overwhelms your trepidation and you step outside the room, clad in fresh clothes. Within seconds, Kyungsoo is in front of you, his mouth working a mile a minute, which frankly would usually be enough to throw you off anyway (Kyungsoo? Chatty? A foreign concept), but your attention is quickly drawn away as you notice how usually _crowded_ your little living room is. 

Scattered among the room are men of various shapes and sizes, some reclining lazily against your worn disorderly furniture, while a few seem to stand almost uncomfortably straight, eyes darting around the room as though they fear something is waiting to spring out of the shadows. And, judging by the way their eyes seize onto figure with a very sudden sense of panic the second you step into the room, you figure you’re probably the living incarnation of the aforementioned shadow monster that straightens their spine. They look different in daylight, you think. In the absence of the pulsing, fluorescent lights of the harsh night club scene, they look softer. More tired. Still, there’s no mistaking them. Even cramped into a setting as unfamiliar as this. 

The members of EXO are sitting in your living room. 

Distantly, Kyungsoo is still talking to you. Attempting to get your attention as he demands an explanation, but all you can do is stare, open mouthed, at the lost litter of boys in front of you. 

“Y/n.” Kyungsoo snaps impatiently, and you are forced to look back at him, your eyes straying between your brother and the brood of awkward boys behind him. He raises an eyebrow expectantly and tilts his head, the action making his dark hair fall over his eyes slightly. “What happened last night?” 

You can barely splutter in response, your arms raising to gesture wildly to the boys that lull quietly behind him. “Okay, no but with all due respect, what the fu-“

“Y/n!” Your brother scolds quickly, cutting you off with a grim frown. There are a few stray titters behind him and he turns ever so slightly to exert a look of equal displeasure. The giggling stops. His head whips back to yours and you cross your arms defiantly across you chest.

“’I can’t ever bring work home, y/n. I don’t want you to be a part of this life, y/n. No you can’t come with me or meet the boys, y/n – because it’s NOT SAFE, Y/N.’ That’s you. That’s you, like _two s_ econds ago, so you are the one that needs to explain because I honestly have no idea what the _fuc_ -“

“Ah, y/n.” Kyungsoo cuts off gruffly. He runs his palm roughly over his face and huffing at you from beneath half shut eyelids. “We’ve been looking for you all night.” He grumbles softly, followed by a small sigh of exhaustion. 

Your mouth closes abruptly, and with the heat of his broody gaze on the floor, you take the time to really study his features. He _does_ look tired, you realize – there’s a definite slack in his jaw, and a dark hollowness that frames his soft brown eyes. Shame rushes at you, and it only worsens so when you glance at the other members, and find them in similar states of disarray. They try not to meet your eyes, or either offer very brief and stalling smiles. Apart from one boy, who’s gaze you feel like a trickle of ice water against your neck. 

No questions who that could be. 

“Well,” comes a deep rumble of a voice, coughing awkwardly as he pulls the room out of its stilted silence. Looking over, you realize the owner of the voice is a very tall boy, his gangly limbs in lazy disarray on your small comforter (his legs are too long for it, you can’t help but note, and he’s forced to cross them in the lap of another dark haired boy who drapes his hand over the tall boy’s knee), and his shock of red hair tangled in messy knots as he looks toward Sehun with a half smirk. 

“ _Most_ of us were looking for you.” 

The suggestive glint of his words is impossible to miss and Sehun only glares witheringly in response. The boys all seem to let out likewise gaps of disbelief, and the boy who had held his legs in his lap shoves them off his and reaches across to slap the red haired boy across the head. He’s perhaps less gentle than he should be, and the long limbed boy collapses dramatically to the floor. 

“HEY! YIXING!” 

“Park Chanyeol that is Kyungsoo’s _sister_ you have some respect!” Yixing chides, frowning in disappointment. 

Chanyeol, to his credit, reddens quickly and drops his head in apology. When he peeks up at you again through his eyelashes, his hair seems to pale in comparison to his heated, cherry cheeks. 

“Ah, that was rude of me, I- I am very sorry.” He mumbles slightly, his fingers scratching behind his ear awkwardly as he peers guiltily at you once again. 

You think of last night, and how these tall, intimidating men had crowded around you and made you feel very, very small. These, you think as a smaller, grey haired man shuffles his way to the front to bat Chanyeol on the ear once more and then shoot you an open grin, are not, c _annot_ possibly be the same people. 

Still watching in disbelief, you remain silent as the grey haired man (or is it silver?) jostles Chanyeol slightly to encourage him onto his feet. He does so, though incredibly ungracefully and tripping more than once. 

“My name is Junmyeon.” The silver-grey haired man greets, as the boys shuffle into a sort of line. “I am very sorry about last night, we had no idea you were Kyungsoo’s sister, we would have never been so rude otherwise.” He smiles again, and you’re not sure if it’s putting you at ease or just making you even more uncomfortable with the whole situation. 

“I hope you will allow us to make a much better first impression.” He says sombrely, and as the members not in silent agreement, ducking their heads and offering small smiles here and there, you notice the strong leadership that seems to settle around Junmyeon’s shoulders. _Ah,_ you think, _that makes sense._

He drops into a deep bow and one by one the boys introduce themselves to you with the utmost courtesy. There is Jongdae, who seems lively, but somewhat reserved in your unfamiliar company, then Minseok, who introduces himself as the oldest, but also strikes you as uncharacteristically soft. He is followed by Jongin, the dark haired dancer you recall faintly from the last night – he has a very pretty smile, and then Baekhyun, who is easily the loudest, most excitable of the bunch, unable to stay still as he bats impatiently around the group. Then there is Yixing, who seems incredibly soft spoken and kind despite his roughness with Chanyeol, who offers further apologies in his mumbled introduction, the tips of his ears stained red. There is only one boy who has yet to offer a formal introduction, and he shuffles impatiently at the end of the line, seemingly unsure of where to look as the focus on the rooms rests heavily on him. 

“And this is Sehun.” Kyungsoo interludes, reclining against a small brown table. 

“But apparently you already knew that.” 

The two of you lock eyes, challenging each other with the words neither of you have yet spoken. The tension hangs heavily between you, the irritation of last night’s events pulled heavily into the limelight. 

“Ah, Baekhyun, is that your phone ringing? I think it’s your phone ringing.” Junmyeon asks suddenly turning to the bouncing boy. The male only regards him in quiet confusion, eyebrows raised in question.

“What are you talking about? My phone isn’t ringing.” 

Junmyeon huffs slightly, eyeing him. “I really think it is, Baekhyun. Maybe we should all go answer that.” Baekhyun only screws up his face further. 

“That doesn’t make any sense, hyung. Why would we _all_ answer _my_ phone?”

“Because we’re very close friends, Baekhyun.” Junmyeon grits out through clenched teeth. 

“We’re not that close.” 

“BAEKHYUN.”

Junmyeon sighs roughly, but Baekhyun is laughing now, still none the wiser to his leader’s very obvious hints but clearly enjoying his growing exasperation. To make matters worse, Jongdae and Chanyeol seem eager to join in Baekhyun’s antics, and Jongdae lets out a series of loud chuckles and Chanyeol imitates their leader’s stressed stance. 

“Hey, Kim Jongin.” Junmyeon says, looking at the smiling boy pointedly as he peeks around Baekhyun’s shoulder. Jongin gazes in earnest return, and seems to realize quickly what he’s being asked to do as he lets out a quiet ‘ah’ and nods. He turns back to you and Kyungsoo for a split second, smiling apologetically before he lifts a still laughing Baekhyun slightly, his hands underneath his armpits as he carries him out of the room. Baekhyun, who is much smaller than Jongin, can only shriek in response, beating his hands half heartedly against the younger boy’s arms. 

The other members follow in quick succession, though Minseok has to make a move to shove Chanyeol after him as he protests loudly he doesn’t want to talk to Baekhyun’s grandmother. 

You watch, eyebrows tilted in confusion, as the boys traipse into the conjoining room. There is a loud gasp and Baekhyun shoves his way out of the room, Jongin still holding onto his arms as he follows, giggling lightly. Junmyeon looks horrified, and they appear to have realized they had traipsed into _your_ room instead of your brothers. A chorus of muttered, sudden apologies rises quickly as they hurtle towards the opposite door, and Chanyeol nearly trips again in the excitement. Sehun follows the rear of the group, but Jongdae slams the door before he can enter, slapping his long arms away and tutting impatiently.

His hand dropping away from the door, Sehun sighs and turns back to the scene slowly. His eyes are trained on your dark, musty carpet and hidden beneath a cluster of blonde hair – even so, the slight tremble in his fingertips announces his trepidation loudly enough. 

Kyungsoo is silent. Whatever he’s thinking, his dark eyes hide it well enough. His gaze is unrelenting, unforgiving as he appraises you, waiting for an explanation you cannot rightly give. 

You sigh and fall back against your plush comforter, bringing your knees to your head and willing yourself to stay calm. This, you know, will be made no better by tears. 

“What do you want me to say, Kyungsoo?” You mumble from your knees, the words made slight from the worn, denim fabric. From your position, you see the outline of your brother’s fists, and the way they curl together at your words, shaking. 

“...I was so scared, y/n...” He whispers, voice cracking ever so slightly as he trembles out your name. “I thought... I thought you might’ve-“

“I’m fine, Kyungsoo.” You cut him off, quickly, hearing the unfamiliar way his voice wobbles and shakes, and still highly aware of Sehun’s cramped presence in the small room. You look up, staring earnestly into his big, sad eyes and nod slightly, willing him not to break. 

“Nothing happened and nothing is going to happen. I’m- I’m alright. I’m okay.” He relaxes slightly, a sigh of pure relief whistling from his lips. He slacks against the creaky table, his fists unfurling into trembling fingers. Kyungsoo had never quite been so open and expressive with you as he had been in the last half an hour or so, and you think he really, truly must have been terrified last night. 

Fifty four missed calls you muse, smiling slightly.

There is a bang from the other side  of the room and you both whip your heads at the intrusion. There is a rushed mumbling from Kyungsoo’s room, and even a few muffled giggles before it quiets down again, and you are both left to stare at Sehun, who doesn’t seem to have glanced up throughout your entire conversation. However, burdened by the weight of your likewise heavy gazes, his eyes drift to you hesitantly, occasionally flicking over to your brother. 

Next to you, Kyungsoo’s fists clench again. 

“Where were you?” He punctuates sharply, standing straighter and managing to look fairly imposing despite his smaller frame. “Where were the _both_ of you?” He hisses, and, caught like two unruly schoolchildren, you and Sehun lock eyes in a rushed, frantic gaze.  You rise from the comforter and Sehun takes a few steps further into the room, and though you both seem to rush to give some sort of answer, neither one of you speaks a word. 

Kyungsoo’s impatience only grows. 

“You were gone _all night,_ y/n. You didn’t pick up the phone _once._ Not once. And I know you didn’t come back here either, so don’t even _try_ and give me that. And _you-“_ Kyungsoo whirls on Sehun, eyes imposturous as he stills, breathing out heavily from his nostrils. You realize that at some point you and Sehun had gravitated so that you were now standing next to each other, your heads both dipped in shame and slight apprehension – you had never seen your brother quite so angry, his soft brown eyes tormented by a unruly ferocity as he apprehended the both of you. 

Kyungsoo takes a few steps closer to Sehun, spitting out his words. 

“We needed you last night. We needed you Sehun, and _you weren’t there._ When are you going to stop sneaking off from the club and accept some **_goddamn_** responsibility for your actions?”

“Your actions. Not mine.” Sehun intercuts and Kyungsoo fixes him in place with a pointed, withering glare.

“ _Our_ actions. All of ours. We’re supposed to be a team, Sehun, we’re supposed to be _brothers_ and it’s about time you started showing some loyalty.” 

You can practically _taste t_ he testosterone. It bounces around the room as the two boys mirror each other, each glowing with rising, impotent rage. 

“So I’ll ask again, and one of you better answer this time and give me the _truth._ ” Kyungsoo stands in front of the two of you rigidly and you resist the urge to squirm under his still, heady gaze. 

“Where were you?” 

“I-“

“We spent the night together.”

Sehun interrupts your undignified struggle, speaking in a smooth, crisp voice. You jerk your head towards him instantaneously, but he only stares straight ahead, dark eyebrows polished neatly across his forehead as he regards Kyungsoo plainly. There is no trace of hesitance or regret in his voice, only a resolute finality, a sort of welcome conclusion. 

 There is a series of loud bangs from the other room, followed by a booming ‘DAMN IT, SEHUN,’ before a fragile shushing quietens the group. A moment later, Sehun and Kyungsoo’s phones ring out with a number of identical, insistent, bleeping and you realize the boys have begun texting them.

 Unbelievable. Frankly, you’re a little ashamed these are the same boys that intimidated you. 

“Are you crazy?” Kyungsoo’s gruff voice brings you back to reality and you realize he is talking to Sehun, rigid at your side. 

“You think it’s safe to bring her into this kind of world? Jesus, Sehun, we agreed-“

“I didn’t realize she was your s _ister._ If I’d known I never would have-“

As the two stand in front of you, arguing and bickering your annoyance grows until you can’t take it anymore. They’re talking about you like you’re not even here, like you’re an object for them to quarrel and spat over until one claims some form of moronic male dominance. 

“HEY.” You holler, stepping away from Sehun so you face the both of them head on. Their incessant squabbling desists, and they both turn to you in muted surprise. 

“Am I an object? Can I not hear _everything_ your saying? Stop arguing over me as if I’m not two feet in front of you.” You growl out. Sehun, at least, has the decency to look ashamed, and drops his head – this is accompanied by what seems to be a mumbled apology, but he speaks so quietly you’re not entirely sure. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, only glares back at you. 

“Last night... did you know who he was?” 

Your mind flashes to the night before – the way the damned red ink had grinned up at you beneath the pulsing lights of the surly club – and later, as you’d pushed the same jacket from his shoulders, kissing him soundly as you left the swirled ink crumpled in a forgotten heap. 

Your cheeks burn at the memory but, meeting Kyungsoo’s sullen eyes, you answer bluntly enough.

“I knew who he was.”

Kyunsgoo laughs, but perhaps it cannot be characterised as such – there is no humour in the rough sound, and it is harsh against your ears, bellowing around the room the same way nails might scratch insolently against a chalkboard – importunate, and unremitting. 

“You just- you _have_ to be doing it on purpose at this point, y/n. All I do – all I’ve ever done, is try my hardest to _protect_ you and you- you just _throw_ yourself into these situations. Never once stopping to _think_ about the consequences of your actions.” 

You nod frantically along to his words, rage bubbling near the surface. He opens his mouth to speak again, lecture you some more, you think, but, dissatisfied, you cut him off. 

“You’re just- so _right,_ Kyunsgoo. God, you’re a _fucking_ hero, aren’t you?” 

“That’s not what I’m-“

“Shut _up,_ Kyunsgoo. Protect me? When do you _protect_ me? Is it when you leave, for weeks on end, not once telling where you’re going, or when you’ll be back, or _if_ you’ll be back? Or when you stumble home at 3am in the morning with gunshot wounds and cigarette burns and knives sticking out of your arms? 

So tell me, Kyungsoo, tell me _exactly_ how it is, that you are _protecting_ me, when all you are doing is pushing me aside – no, don’t _touch_ me – pushing me away and _never_ being there when I need you. I’m not even your sister anymore, I’m just – I’m just this stranger that you stagger home at the end of the night, because you need someone to wrap a bandage around you and wash the blood out of your shirt. “

Distantly, you’re aware of your own voice, a dull drone in the back of your head as you trip over your own words, voice caught up in a sob. You gasp out a breath and squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your trembling lips together tightly in a rallied effort to maintain what remains of your composure. 

“You are just-“ your voice cracks, you ignore it, “you are everything to me, and I am nothing to you.”

Your eyes are watery when you open them, but it is not enough to blind you to his crestfallen expression. He looks as though he wants to reach out to you, his arms dangling unevenly at his sides, but lacking the motivation to tug you towards him. 

Behind you, there is a creak as Kyungsoo’s bedroom door opens slightly. Turning your head, you meet seven pairs of eyes, each gazing at you with a likewise woeful expression, downcast and desolate. You turn quickly and find Sehun of a similar disposition, though a foreign fierceness burns bright behind his dark eyes. 

“Oh.” you whisper and then, reaching up to roughly wipe away your tears, louder this time, “Oh.”

“I-I’m sorry, I-“ You can’t find the words to appropriately voice your regretful embarrassment, at having them bear witness to a violent explosion of tumultuous and suppressed emotion. Kyungsoo says your name and makes a start towards you, but you turn away from him suddenly, bowing to the boys who hover in the other room. 

“I’m very sorry.” You say simply and then rising, rush towards your bedroom. Slamming the door shut, you curl around yourself and let out a deep sob into your palm, clenching your fist shut. 

There is a low rumble of voices from the other room and you rush over to your drawer, throwing out a number of items until you settle on your headphones, tangled between a few odd pieces of thread. You plug them into your phone, mindlessly blasting the first song in your album to block out the cascade of quiet, sympathetic voices and whatever soothing or fighting words they offer. 

Your walls are thin and you have no interest in hearing what they have left to say. 

You recline against your lumpy mattress and though you want to sob, cry, shout and scream, you settle on taking in a deep, shaky breath. In. Out. In. Out. 

The walls are thin, and they already heard you cry once. 

You close your eyes. 

No need for a repeat. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 

Over the next few hours, you succumb to a restless sleep. Your dreams are plagued by faceless monsters and endless trials that wake you each time, drenched in your own cold sweat. When you are chillingly pulled into consciousness for a third time, you give up on sleep all together, and settle against your headboard with a dissatisfied grunt. 

You peel away from your bed sheets slowly, moving over to your small window at a painstakingly slow pace. You push the window open and lay your head heavily against the windowpane, mulling over your inner turmoil as the gentle breeze sweeps against your cheeks, the setting sky now soft after the mornings maddened gall.

Before your thoughts can turn to anything too depressing, a gentle knock pulls you out of your thoughts. You frown slightly as you turn your head to the quiet intrusion, and when you give no response, the knocks come again, more insistent this time. 

“Uh.. come in.” You call, though it sounds like more of a question than anything else. There is a lot of murmuring then, and you think some jostling judging by the pained yelp that arises. You frown deeper, and move towards you door just as it is flung open and Chanyeol trips inside. He collects himself quickly, and whips his head to glare at someone you can’t see, mumbling a series of tight lipped obscenities. 

You remain mute and wait for him to turn around. When he does, he blushes once again and dips into a deep bow so fast it gives you whiplash. 

“Uh, I just- Kyungsoo, he, well he – shut _up_ Jongdae, I’m doing it – sorry, I mean, Kyungsoo made dinner and he thought, I mean we thought, maybe you’d like some, maybe?”

You struggle to pick out the meaning from his mumbling and despite personal inhibitions you’re forced to acknowledge, he’s pretty adorable, but when you do get the gist of it, you shake your head quickly and then realize, in his permanent bow, he has no way of actually seeing that. 

“Ah, thank you, but I’m not very hungry.” 

A low rumble from your stomach makes you both acknowledge that this is most certainly a lie, and Chanyeol tilts his head up, peeking up at you from underneath his eyelashes with a warm smile adorning his pretty features. 

You place a hand on your stomach and laugh awkwardly, looking away. 

“God, Chanyeol you didn’t ask her right.” Comes an impetuous sigh. You turn your head as Baekhyun skips into the room, followed by the rest of the boys, who blink at you from around your doorframe. 

Chanyeol straightens as he scoffs at the smaller, dark haired boy and adorns a wide, sarcastic smile, flicking Baekhyun on the ear. 

“How can I not ask her right, Baekhyun?” He huffs and Baekhyun shrugs. 

“I don’t know, but somehow you managed.” Chanyeol sucks in air through his teeth and makes a move towards Baekhyun, you think maybe to flick him again, but Baekhyun shakes his head and laughs, bouncing towards you. 

“ _This_ is how you ask.” He says smugly, before turning to you and quite suddenly seizing your hands in his. You jolt, ruffled, but his hands are soft and gentle, and he makes no move to grip you any tighter. The smugness drips slowly away from his face, and is refreshed with an open, rectangular smile. 

“Little sister, Kyungsoo made you lots of delicious food! He made it _especially_ for you and I’m sure you’re very hungry and we are too and Kyungsoo says we can’t eat until you come out of your room, and you know I’m actually _really_ hungry-“

Junmyeon seems to have appeared quite suddenly behind Baekhyun and tweaks his ear roughly, pulling him away from you as Baekhyun lets out an exaggerated, high pitched scream. He pushes him towards the boys and Jongdae wraps an arm around his front, nestling his head into his neck and smiling brightly at you. 

“I’m sorry about him.” Junmyeon says kindly, tugging you out of your thoughts. You turn back to him and respond with a smile, shaking your head to show you’re not offended. In all honestly, you can see yourself growing quite fond of Baekhyun’s escapades. 

“Y/n... please would you eat with us?” Junmyeon asks hopefully, so bright and clear it stuns you that he is the head of a _gang._ Glancing around the room, you note the similar expressions on all of their faces, the childlike innocence in their eyes and tell yourself again these are the acclaimed, dangerous members of E.X.O, members of the _mafia._ It seems, quite frankly, impossible. 

And even more impossible to refuse. 

You sigh, meeting their eyes with a genuine smile. 

“Ah, I guess I am pretty hungry. Give me a second?” You relent and the boys cheer, really cheer and you let out a sort of breathless laugh because honestly, this is ridiculous and they are the furthest thing from gang members you have ever met. They depart quickly, fluttering out of your room as they call for Kyungsoo and you turn back to shut your window. 

You lean up on your toes to clutch at the handle and pull it shut quickly, before turning to toss your earphones lazily into your drawer. As you straighten, the back of your neck tingles, and you don’t have to turn your head to know he’s standing in the doorway still, hesitating. 

“We should talk.” 

His voice echoes through the empty room and you shrink away from the deep ring of his words, and the shackles of responsibility that accompany them. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You respond mildly, refusing to turn around. 

“Last night-“

“Last night...” You do turn now, eyes running along his dusty shadow. “Last night shouldn’t have happened.”

Sehun takes a few steps into the room, and he’s equally caught between smouldering and precious, because while he tries to maintain a cool and calm facade, his jittery palms and half, unsure steps betray his anxiousness. Your eyes loop around each skittish stride as he pads slowly towards you, the room thick with an undeniable atmosphere of regret and undeclared vows. 

“You regret it?”

“Yes.” You answer, entirely too quickly. His long eyebrow arches in response, and he tilts his head with a barely-there smile. 

“You know...” He comes closer, more confident in himself now. “You really are a terrible liar.”

 He’s in front of you now, smiling openly, if a little dubious. There isn’t much space between you, and you realize you probably could, if you wanted, reach out and touch him, run your hand along his cheek and fist in his hair. Your mind flashes to last night and you clear your throat, as if to blur the too-vivid memory. 

“We had too much to drink.” You try to reason, but Sehun only shakes his head, eyes flashing brightly as he holds you in regard. 

“We didn’t drink _that_ much.”

“Why are you doing this?” You demand suddenly, your arms flailing at your sides in exasperation. “We already had s _ex_ Sehun, what else do you want?”

His smile drops and while he’s not exactly frowning, his whole body is pulled taut, pursing his lips as he studies you. 

“An explanation.” He settles, keeping his face blank. 

“An explanation.” You repeat, addled. “What am I supposed to be explaining?”

“Why you left.”

You stammer for a response, thrown off by his sudden direct line of questioning. 

“I- How can you ask that?”

“Pretty easily, actually.”

“You’re funny.”

“I prefer incredibly good looking, but I suppose that’s just as accurate.”

You don’t mean to, but laughter bubbles up from your lips, short and stilled before you turn your head, biting your lip to stop yourself. You know without looking at him that he’s smiling, because you feel the pleasant warmth of his soft grin prickling against your cheek like a timid ray of sunshine. 

You turn so that you’re just looking at each other, and it’s a little awkward, a little stilted, but not all together bad, you think. Not at all. 

“Next time.” He says quietly, dropping his head. “Next time you should stay.”

“There’s not going to be a next time.”  You counter firmly, internally blanching at the conviction behind his words. 

He offers no answer, but lifting his head ever so slightly, raises his eyes to look at you, blinking slowly underneath a soft set of dark eyelashes. You level his gaze and a slow smirk drips onto his full lips, his nose wrinkling slightly. 

He offers no answer, but his eyes are answer enough. 

He opens his mouth, undoubtedly to murmur some wanton remark or self congratulatory observation but a moment later, Minseok is behind him, frowning up at the boy. He’s much smaller than Sehun, but clearly holds authority being older as he reaches up as pinches his ear roughly. Sehun yelps and jumps back, rubbing his ear and glaring accusingly, while Minseok only continues to look unamused. 

“We should go and help lay the table, Oh Sehun.” Minseok says firmly, his dark eyebrows resting low on his forehead as he regards the younger boy in reproach. Glancing back at you, Sehun opens his mouth, presumably to protest, but Minseok only sighs, reaching up push the back of his head in front of him, ignoring the boy’s complaints as he pushes him out of the room, turning at the last minute to offer you a quick, fleeting smile. 

You stand, for a moment, reflecting on the situation. The boys are... something else. 

You leave the room a couple moments later, shuffling through the door quietly. The boys are waiting for when you do, all collected around your small living space. Chanyeol and Baekhyun are bickering quietly on the sofa, Yixing half listening to their squabble as he rests his head against Chanyeol’s shoulder. Jongdae is sitting between Yixing’s legs and frantically nodding along to Baekhyun’s words, slapping Chanyeol’s knee at odd intervals. Junmyeon is sitting in one of the opposite chairs, nodding along every now and again but mostly allowing the boys to bicker while Jongin giggles at the proceedings, resting on the arm of Junmyeon’s chair. Minseok moves to wedge himself next to Junmyeon on the small chair, ignoring the leader’s quiet grumbled complaints, and Sehun shifts to lounge against Jongin’s legs, silent but smiling. 

“Y/n.” 

You look over to the kitchen, where Kyungsoo has called your name and everyone falls silent. He’s wearing the yellow apron you bought him for his last birthday, hair dishevelled as he holds a tray of food carefully in his palm. Your receding anger comes to the spotlight once again and you look away from him, clearing your throat slightly. 

“Y/n! Come sit down, we saved you a space!” Baekhyun calls happily, and looking back to them, you realize they’ve left a single chair free, opposite Junmyeon. 

“Ah, uh, okay.” You return, padding over to them softly and settling into the chair gently. You’re closest to Yixing and Jongdae, who both turn with warm smiles, shifting towards you slightly in an attempt to bring you into the group. 

“Did you sleep?” Yixing offers kindly and you nod slightly in response, eyes twinkling in soft affection. 

“Mm, a little.” 

“Were we loud?” 

“So loud.” 

Chanyeol gasps dramatically, and looks as though he’s about throw Baekhyun off him to drop into another bow of apology.  

“No, no, I’m just kidding! You were fine, really.” You assure quickly, and the boys seem to breathe an equal sigh of deep relief (aside from Sehun, who is laughing quietly into his palm). 

Baekhyun is holding a hand over his heart, staring at you. “Ah, y/n, don’t scare us like that!” 

You laugh slightly at them, genuinely amused. “Sorry.” You say, still grinning. They seem to lighten slightly, and return your big grin with equal fervour. 

“Since you’re laughing, it’s okay.” Junmyeon affirms and the others nod along, the mood of the room rapidly escalating. 

Kyungsoo walks slowly into the room, juggling an assortment of different plates. The boys jump up to help him, rushing into the conjoined kitchen to bring in the other dishes. They set them out on the small table in front of you all, passing plates among you. You feel Kyungsoo looking towards you, but you keep your head down, avoiding his gaze as he settles heavily between Chanyeol and Baekhyun. 

You each take your time piling food onto your plate, and you push the rice around your bowl slowly, mindlessly turning on the television to fill the sudden quiet that dawns on the room. You glance back at the boys momentarily, and then again when you realize they’re all staring at you expectedly. Your lips part in quiet confusion and you glance at Jongin, who gestures down to your food with a gentle tip of his head. 

With a start, you realize they’re waiting for you to eat before they do, which, by the looks of Chanyeol's longing gaze, is taking considerable restraint. 

You bring the rice to your lips and chew slowly, before releasing an appreciative hum of approval. The boys sigh gratefully and begin eating immediately, a simultaneous ensemble of thanks for the food echoing around the room. You can’t help but find the whole thing regretfully adorable. 

They keep up casual conversation whilst they eat, which you find for them means quite a lot of shouting, especially on Baekhyun’s part. They seem eager for you to join in the conversation, but you’re content to remain quiet for the time, observing them as they interact with one another. You hadn’t anticipated such closeness and warm familiarity between them, and it’s almost strange to witness how at ease they are with one another, and to an extent, with you. It gets to a point where their constant bickering almost becomes comforting, and rather than eat, you sit to observe them. 

Of course, they notice and Kyungsoo’s voice rings out amongst the chaos. 

“Ah, y/n, is it not good?” He ventures carefully. Meeting his eyes, you shake your head slightly. 

“It’s good.” You return quietly, simply. 

“Then you should eat more.” He encourages, and you don’t miss the glint of hope the hums from his words. “I made it for you anyway, not these brats.”

A series of complaints rise from Kyungsoo’s words and Chanyeol smacks him on the shoulder. You look back at him, and while you don’t quite smile, there’s an understanding that passes between the both of you and you nod slightly in recognition of his words, eating some more rice slowly. 

The boys move on quickly, arguing about something or another, but this time you take note of Yixing and Jongdae, who at different points, each turn their head to make sure you’re eating along with the rest of the boys, taking care to nudge you slightly if you’re not. Glancing up occasionally, you meet Sehun’s eyes, who seems torn between smirking at you and tearing his gaze away, and it’s actually quite entertaining to watch the struggle play out across his visage. 

Nodding at Yixing for a moment as he nudges you wrist slightly, you glimpse back up towards Kyungsoo and Sehun. They seem to be caught in a staring match of sorts, and for a moment you’re worried they’re about to clash. But then, nodding ever so slightly, Kyungsoo smiles minutely down at the younger boy. Sehun, nodding back, reaches out his palm and brushes it against Kyungsoo’s fingertips, until their fingers intertwine into a joint, locked fist and they shake slightly. You observe the quiet handshake with not a small amount of curiosity, pondering over the exact dynamic of their relationship, and wondering if it perhaps mirrors your own. 

“Okay!” Jongdae announces loudly once you have all finished eating, detangling himself from Yixing and standing up. “Kyungsoo cooked and this is y/n’s apartment so we should clean up.” 

Immediately, Chanyeol and Baekhyun begin whining, slinking deeper into the sofa cushions. 

“Do we need eight people to clean?” Baekhyun grumbles, frowning dramatically up at Jongdae. Chanyeol hums in agreement, but Junmyeon, standing up from his chair, nods along to Jongdae and shuffles the boys into action, eyeing you and Kyungsoo carefully. 

Jongin pulls Baekhyun to his feet, and as they all slink into the kitchen Chanyeol is forced to follow regretfully behind.

“Little sister!” Baekhyun squeaks as a final sort of plea, and you mumble through a laugh, shaking your head at their antics. 

Their absence leaves you and Kyungsoo alone, left in one another’s company and drowning under the weight of the words that still hang between you. You sit up a little straighter, but otherwise make no move to drift any closer to him. For his part, your brother shifts awkwardly, thumbing the sleeves of his dark blue shirt as he dances around the conversation both of you are avoiding. 

The room is silent, other than the clatter and clangs ringing from the kitchen. You don’t look at each other, and though you’re still worn by remnants of your earlier anger, now, you feel yourself mostly ruled by hurt, your body humming with upset. 

The seconds tick into minutes and the room is so _quiet_ and _still_ that you can barely stand it. You sigh loudly, and make a move to stand and wander back into the sanctity and solitary of your bedroom. 

“I’m sorry.” Kyungsoo blurts abruptly, turning to look at you suddenly. His lips are pulled into a deep line and his doleful eyes are wide. 

“About last night- I mean, about everything lately, I’m just, I’m really sorry.”

“Kyungsoo-“

“No wait let me just-” He pauses for a moment, shifting a little closer and blinking up at you in your half-standing position. 

“Please sit down, y/n, and I’ll- I’ll explain.” He implores softly. Your mouth twists in thought, but, exhaling shakily, you nod and settle back down into the chair, looking toward him in earnest. 

He looks at you, and taking a moments breath, begins quietly. 

“Last night... I made a mistake. I know that I promised I’d be less involved in the drugs, and the deals, and the fights and that I’d try my hardest to stay away from it all and I _swear_ I’ve been trying, but last night, I- it was unavoidable. I don’t mean for that to sound like an excuse, or an easy way out because I know how difficult things have been for you lately and I know- _I know_ I haven’t been the brother you needed me to be, but I need you to trust me when I say there was nothing I could have done. Not last night. “

He takes a small breath and inches his hand toward yours. He rests his fingers atop yours and you let him, your thumb curling slightly around his little finger as you coax him to continue. 

“So last night. There was supposed to be a meet up. A deal, of sorts. A group of local friendlies – B.T.S, you know the like,” (you didn’t, but you let him continue) “they were all there, but news of it got round. We’re-we’re high profile and that means we have a lot of hostiles, especially in that area. The place was practically crawling with them, y/n, you should’ve seen it – well, I mean, I guess you sort of did. But- yeah, they were _everywhere,_ y/n and they’re like rats, clawing for the slightest, smallest scrap of information, anything they can find that’ll hurt us, make us weak and you-“

He stills for a moment, turning your hand over so that he can interlock your fingers together, squeezing them firmly as though to remind himself that you were still there, sitting in front of him. You return the embrace softly, offering hesitant comfort. He looks back to you, smiling gently.

“You come barrelling in like a damn tornado. My little sister, walking into the most dangerous club in the city and calling me every name under the sun.”

He laughs slightly, shaking his head as he regards you in tender fondness. 

“You had no idea how much danger you were in, and even if you had I doubt it would’ve made a difference, old stubborn ass.” 

He yelps and laughs when you retract your hand to punch him square in the shoulder.

“Don’t hit me, it’s true! And you know it.” 

You smirk at one another and it’s the same smirk, the same grin on both your faces. He holds his hands up in surrender and when you pull back, still smiling, he takes your hand once more, growing more sombre again as the smile drips away from his lips. 

“But I knew. I know exactly how desperate those people can be, and what they can do to innocent people. Good people. What they could’ve done to _you..._ So when I said those things – those awful, horrible things, I was doing it to protect you. If they knew who you were, if they knew how much I cared about you, they would’ve hurt you y/n. They would’ve never stopped looking for you. I had to pretend, and brush you aside and act like I didn’t give a damn about the one person-“

He breaks off, and carefully places his hand on the side of your head, a fragile smile painted onto his lips. 

“About the one person that matters the most.”

You let out a breathless sort of laugh, leaning into his hand and the warmth it offers. You bring his hand down, moving it away from your hair to clutch it tightly in your own. You both blink down at your conjoined hands, resting on the armrest in front of you. Sighing, you stand, and Kyungsoo’s eyes burst in worry for a moment. He relaxes quickly as you sit down next to him, pressing into his side and dropping your head on his shoulder. 

“I was so scared, y/n. After you left I told the boys everything. They didn’t even know you existed, you know? I thought- I thought if I told them it’d only put you in more danger and all I wanted to do was look after you, but I guess I haven’t been doing a great job of that lately.”

You nudge your shoulder into his, shaking your head. 

“You’re doing the _best_ job, Kyungsoo.” 

He laughs and places his palm on your head, sighing. 

“I’ve been doing a _terrible_ job, y/n. I see that now. I should never have left you on your own and I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m really sorry, little sister.”

You hum in response, unfamiliar with the affection behind his words. Even so, you nudge his hand out of the way and move to stroke his hair back, smiling. Kyungsoo is _never_ so comfortable with this amount of skinship and you plan on making the most of it while you still can. 

“It’s alright, Kyungsoo. I’m okay, we’re okay.” 

You repeat it continually, going over the words like a hymn, assuring him softly. 

“...I love you, you know.” He mumbles, very, very quietly into his chest. You smile, because for Kyungsoo it is a rare sentiment, and one he rarely chooses to openly express. 

He must have been _really_ worried. 

“I know, big brother. I love you too.” You return too, quietly. 

You remain silent for a while, both of you coming back to your own as the chaos in the kitchen prattles on. You smile and close your eyes, letting the slow, sleepy happiness drizzle over you. It had been a _long_ day. 

“About Sehun...” 

“Moment over. You ruined it. It’s dead.” You say quickly, skirting away from him. 

“Believe me; I want to talk about this even less than you do. I was just going to say-“

“Nope. Enough. Bonding time is over, let’s go our separate ways.”

“Y/n, shut _up,_ would you?”

“Kyungsoo, _drop_ it would you?”

“I’m trying to tell you I overreacted!”

“...Oh. Then go on.”

He glares at you, kicking your leg away from his. 

“Get off me, would you? Anyway, what I was _trying_ to say was that what you do and who you do it with is your business and I shouldn’t impose on that. And I won’t.”

You nod, lips twisting in consideration. 

“Well, thanks. And since we’re doing apologies, I really _am_ sorry I didn’t answer your calls last night. I never meant to make you worry about me.” 

“I always worry about you.” He complains, sighing and throwing his head back. You grin and nudge his leg, snickering. He responds quickly, slapping your legs away from him with a huff. 

After a second, his head lolls to the side, frowning at you. 

“... _Sehun_ , though?”

You toss a pillow at his head. 

Across the room, there is a loud clang. You and Kyungsoo both look up quickly and realize Baekhyun has dropped a dish rack on the floor.  Chanyeol is clapping in delight, almost falling down beside Baekhyun in his childish gratification. Minseok and Yixing seems to be reluctantly sniggering along to the sight of Baekhyun scrambling to pick up the cutlery, while Jongdae complains in a high pitched voice, accusing Baekhyun of being careless. Jongin appears to be trying to help, but honestly, he’s not making much of a difference. Is that... is Sehun _recording_ them? Junmyeon, at this point, has completely lost control of the situation, and leans against the counter with his head between his hands (which are clad in bright pink washing up gloves – those... those aren’t even yours. Did he bring those from home?)

“They are really...” You pause, biting your lip to suppress a smile. “Not what I expected.” 

Kyungsoo nods, sighing, fatigued, as he watches the boys. “Me neither.”

You both watch for a few more moments, and Chanyeol seems to have noticed, because he’s taken his phone out and is waving it frantically in the air as he repeats something about adding you into, their group chat, is it? Jongdae has taken one of Junmyeon’s rubber gloves and smacked him around the face with it, so his message is sort of being lost in translation. 

“Maybe now, you can get to know them a little better.” Kyungsoo ventures carefully, eyes darting to you nervously. 

“Yeah.” Over the chaos, your eyes meet Sehun’s. He smiles softly, shrugging. “Maybe.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys end up sleeping in your living room that night, and chanyeol remains true in his promise to bring you into the groupchat

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come harass me on tumblr! - www.sehsunshine.tumblr.com


End file.
